Le Merle Parle
by Captain Blackbird
Summary: The year is 1726, six years after Jack got the Pearl back. An unexpected stranger enters the story... Chap 3 up.
1. No Defeat This Time

            The swirling dreams dissolved as consciousness came back. Jack Sparrow sat up slowly from the bed, stretching slightly and moving his bones around to regain back their feeling. Vague sounds of the rushing sea tried to bleed through the walls of his room. The gentle creaking of the boat was usual and nothing to be alarmed about.

            His glass almost slid off the edge of the table, but Jack caught it before it hit the floor. He rubbed his aching head, an action that wouldn't clear his thoughts. He clutched the glass tightly in his fingers and stood up. The warmth in his cabin comforted him slightly. His _Pearl_ could always do that to him, whether he was angry, disconsolate, or sober as he was now. The mug was placed in a small barrel of safety and Jack rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Sea turtles on his walls amused him. His arms crossed, he surveyed the condition of his room as he had often done in the past. His nest suited him fine, everything where it should be.

            The sounds of men's shouting seeped through the wooden boards. They were sounds of land ahead or the sighting of another ship. Jack hoped it was the former. His door burst open and he swung around, his trinkets clinking and his hair flying, to face a dark-skinned woman.

            "Captain Sparrow! We've come upon another vessel! A pirate ship!" she said breathlessly.

            Forgetting to grab his coat, Jack followed her out of the room. Men were scurrying all along deck. A few hung on the main masts as lookouts or keeping the sails in check. They shouted orders to each other and several were staring out past the port side of the ship, where a large vessel suddenly swung into view. It was sailing a good 15 knots and was swerving right at the _Black __Pearl__. _The intruder ship's bow narrowly missed crashing into the side of Jack's beauty as it turned swiftly, the two ships now side by side.

            "I can't identify her!" shouted a pirate from the crow's nest.

            "She hasn't put her flag up!" yelled another.

            Jack kept a shaking hand on the side of his door, the informer running back on to the deck, shouting more orders at the sailors. Suddenly, several grappling hooks had flown into the air and caught onto Jack's ship. The railings were covered in the metal weapons and several rungs on the ship's ladders were broken from the sharp razor blades. Foreign pirates began to scramble on board from behind the railings. Others swung in on sturdy ropes, landing boots first on the wooden planks. Cries of alarm and shouts of war floated between decks as the men engaged in battle. Cutlasses waved through the air, aiming for a fatal area on an enemy. The booms of pistols were heard and smoke rose into the air, covering the deck with a misty haze. Strangely enough, the sound of cannon fire was absent. The invading ship had decided to not use field guns on the _Pearl__._ Jack stumbled back into his quarters, searching for his weapons. The room reeled as he tried to focus, still somewhat off-key from drinking. His hand finally touched the hilt of his sword and he pulled it from its sheath, along with his pistol which he pocketed for later. He emerged back into the battle, fighting off the intruder pirates. He stole a glance at where a flag should be, still seeing a naked post. He had never seen a bandit ship that was modest enough to not fly her colors.

            Another unfamiliar pirate ran in front of him, his own sword ready for battle. The character reminded Jack of Regatti, a member of his former crew when Barbossa had been under his command. He had straw blonde hair that fell into his face. His cheeks were hollow but rosy, giving him a slightly boyish appearance. His gray eyes swiveled upon Jack and he immediately grinned as Jack tried to slash him with his sword. The blonde returned his attacks, trying to knick Jack on his side, but the older pirate managed to dock the cutlass away from him.

            "Wait!" the pirate yelled desperately as they continued fighting. Jack didn't let up, thinking it to just be a distraction for him to give him a fatal swipe. He was kicked from behind and Jack fell to the floor, hand still holding his sword. He was about to stand again until he felt the fair-haired pirate's metal blade touch his throat.

            "Captain Sparrow, I presume?"

            Jack's eyes looked up to see the face of his captor.

            "Aye," Jack said softly.

            A vast grin fell upon the boy's countenance. "Captain Jack Sparrow!" he said loudly. The prowler pirates stopped fighting, the noise level dropping quiet a bit, except for the waves that could never be silenced or controlled. All eyes were on him, the slightly humiliated captain on hands and knees.

            "I presume ye are the captain?" Jack inquired.

            The flaxen pirate laughed. "I am not," he said reassuringly. "But the captain would like to see thee, indeed."

            Since all sounds of men had stopped, the footsteps coming closer were magnified. The boards creaked underneath what sounded like heavy boots. The blonde pirate moved aside and Jack saw someone else step up. Russet boots that merged with navy breeches, a red velvet sash around a thin waist, cream shirt opened at the chest to show a white corset-like cloth behind it, an emerald scarf, tied around a strong neck and flying away with the wind. His eyes stopped on the face. A tanned smooth face that held golden eyes was looking straight at him. Soft pink lips and high cheekbones radiated the sun. Above the amber eyes was a silver ring with a green jewel, cutting into the eyebrow. Black ringlets tumbled down to the shoulders, wavy and shiny as if wet. The final touch was a faded scarlet tri-cornered hat, two feathers, one black and one red, protruding from a fold and wavering like the devil's cloak.

            Jack's breath caught in his throat.

            "D!" he choked out.

            She grinned, an evil glint shinning from her teeth.

            His mouth had gone dry. "Blackbird!"


	2. A Little Night Music

            "D!" Jack repeated.

            "Now I haven't heard that name in a long while, Jack Sparrow!" said D, a chuckle escaping her lips. "Men! Stand down! This is an old acquaintance!" The men talked amongst themselves as they released any prisoners. D placed a hand on the blonde's sword. He nodded and retracted it. The strange pirate let out a hand to pull Jack to his feet. She was only a few inches shorter than him, but she looked at him with a smile.

            "I haven't seen you in eight years!" the woman pirate exclaimed. She held out a hand and Jack took it, her shake firm and strong.

            The blonde boy stepped forward and whispered to D, "Captain, this is the man that --?"

            "Aye, he is. Although I must admit I wasn't expecting to see you again, at least not today."

            Jack grinned. "Yer captain now, aren't ye?"

            D flashed her brilliant devilish smile once again. "That I am. That plus a crew an' ship." She waved her hand towards the ship beside the _Pearl__. _She was slightly larger than the black ship and she was painted almost new. One could never guess that she'd spent at least 12 years at sea. In black curly letters, the name _la_ _Grenouille _was printed near the bow.

            "That's a French ship," Jack pointed out.

            D shouted some orders to her men who began moving around on the ship, some returning to the _la Grenouille. _She turned back to Jack.

            "Indeed, a French ship."

            "You are not French."

            Captain Blackbird's smile faltered the slightest bit, a hint of anger flashing in her golden eyes.

            "I am not French. It doesn't matter at the moment. I believe now is a time called for celebration!" Both crews erupted in cheers, swords pointing to the air and shots being fired. Jack grinned.

            "Sounds like a mighty fine idea, Captain," he said.

            She pulled her dark red hat from her head, the dark curls on her head absorbing the rays of the sun. She held the hat to her chest and bowed slightly. "I never believed I would have the pleasure of seeing you again, Captain Sparrow."

            "Seems even the great Blackbird can be mistaken at times," Jack said lightheartedly. She grinned as she replaced her hat.

            "Get out the drinks n' fiddles!" she yelled at her crew. "Tie the ships together an' make sure the sails are down! It's about time to rest our bones!" Another cheer rang through the men as well as laughter. Jack laughed with them.

            "Dear, Blackbird! Ye haven't forgotten the definition of a good time!"  
            "If I had, they wouldn't be with me today," she replied. The blonde pirate, still beside her, grinned, his mouth shining with gold and silver. "Ah, Jack! This is me first mate, Cesar Palomeque. Quite useful on deck and wonderful at keepin' the mates in check. Mighty worthy friend, as well." Cesar held out a hand and Jack shook it after a moment of hesitance.

            "'Tis a pleasure to meet thee!" Cesar said enthusiastically.

            "Interestin' comin' from ye," Jack said nonchalantly, "ye being the one who held a blade to me throat."

            "As if I was to trust thee!" Cesar said, holding his palms to the sky in defense. "Is that not how we of our kind are meant to act?"

            Jack turned back to Blackbird. "Ye've been tellin' some stories?"

            "Only vague ones, dear Jack. Now, I think it is time for merrymaking, unless you object?" Her eyes twinkled in excitement.

            "S'long as there's a bit of rum, darlin', then let the games begin!"

            ~

            "New song!" shouted Cesar. "Play something happy! Vivaldi doesn't give you dance!" The men cheered and urged Rafael, the fiddle player from the _la Grenouille, _to start another happier song. Rafael beamed and slowly placed his bow on the bottom string. The men fell silent, awaiting the next tune. Then the bow swung back and forth, an Old Italian tune rising from its strings. The men applauded and several stood near the fire, kicking their legs out and shaking their bodies to go along with the tune. Those with long hair let it fly and swish through the air. One man slammed his heel on the boards beneath him to make a steady beat along with the fiddle. More rum was passed around and several laughed as one dancing man collided with another, both falling to the floor.

            Jack watched with fascination. "I've never seen it done quite that way," he said in awe.

            "Rafael brought a wonderful gift with him when he came aboard," Blackbird replied, a mug of cool rum in her hands. She took a small sip and set it down on the wood beneath her. "That man's got talent."

            "He does," replied Jack. His fingers drifted over his own cup, feeling for once that he shouldn't drink too much this night. He had the feeling that important matters would be discussed. After several minutes of pure euphoria, Rafael finished his Italian song and the men cheered once again.

            "Another, another, another!" they chanted.

            Rafael smiled, his tanned face covered in a thick layer of sweat and several strands of his straight glistening black hair falling into his face. "Mind if I play one last piece of Vivaldi? It's something knew he wrote that I'd like to give a go."

            "Aw, Raf, ye're always tryin' ta stick sad music inta happy times!" yelled out one man.

            "Can't dance ta nuthin' like that!" yelled another.

            "Let him play," Blackbird yelled over the crowd. They fell silent, a few coughing in embarrassment. Rafael gave a relieved glance at the captain and immediately picked up another tune, a long soft tune that hung heavy over the crowd. There was no dancing at this one. The cries of the fiddle were strange, not meant for such a happy instrument. The violin was a better candidate for the piece he was playing.

            "Winter by Vivaldi," whispered Blackbird, recognizing the new tune. Jack glanced at her suddenly pale face. Her cheekbones were hollower than ever and it looked like she had seen a ghost. "It's a new piece, written last year." Rafael had his eyes closed, his jaw clenched shut and his arm moving the bow across the strings, the sound somehow coming from it. He felt it would be rude if he interrupted the song so he stayed seated and listened.

            Finally the spell was broken when Rafael played the last long note on the fiddle. There was no clapping, only the scary silence even the waves couldn't break. Rafael gave a weak smile and started a new song, a happier one that finally broke the silence. The men once again resumed their cheerful disposition, the previous song forgotten.

            "Jack?"

            Jack twisted around to look at Blackbird, who was now focused on himself.

            "Maybe we can talk some? But somewhere else?" Her eyes were pleading to him. She needed to say no more.

            "I've got me cabin o'er there," Jack said, nodding his head behind them. "Will that suffice?"

            Blackbird nodded. They both rose, the men did not object. The sounds of the fête were muffled as Jack closed the door behind them. Blackbird's eyes wandered around his cabin. The large painting of the sea turtles, the small bookcase opposite of his bed, the reading table with parchment and inkwell, the pen missing somewhere, various other materials in various other corners. After Blackbird seemed satisfied with the area, she set herself down in the chair that was set up for the desk. Jack too sat, but on the tip of his bed. They listened to the growing merriment outside, somewhat hesitant to start any conversation.

            "It took me eight years to find you," Blackbird said suddenly.

            "You were looking for me?" Jack asked in surprise.

            "Can't say I was," she replied sadly. She stood up and began to pace the room, Jack's eyes still on her. "I had forgotten about you, actually. This was a surprise."

            "You aren't the only one who was surprised."

            Blackbird nodded. "I can't believe I didn't recognize this was your ship. This is the _Black __Pearl__?_ The stories are true! She is a beautiful vessel and I see now why you were after her so hungrily all those years."

            Jack nodded, the usual pride of his said ship absent. The air hung silent for a moment more. It was almost uncomfortable.

            "How has life been treating you, D?"

            She stopped pacing. Her hand lifted to brush some of her hair from her face. The expression she held was pained yet stern. "Better, indeed. But I'm still haunted." She bit her lower lip thoughtfully, staring at the floor.

            "You never did tell me anything, D. You left before you could."

            "I know." She took one more step and sat back in the chair, leaning back and setting her legs to rest on the desk. "I don't reveal that information. Ever."

            Jack didn't answer.

            "It's a difficult subject, that is. I'm sure you don't talk about your past either."

            "I don't," Jack said quietly.

            "But I think after eight years of not talking, I find you the worthy one to speak to."

            Jack looked up at her, her face still holding the ever serious look, often masked with a grin, but now revealed. "What are you telling me, D?"

            "I'm telling you what happened to me. I'm telling you why I'm here."

            "Why you became a pirate?" Jack raised his eyebrows, full attention on her.

            "No," she said harshly. "I've never been one to figure that out. Maybe you with you're twisted little mind can tell me that when I'm finished."

            "I doubt that," Jack said gently.

            "Do you?" Blackbird's golden eyes pierced Jack's. "Are you so sure, Jack Sparrow? This is coming from the man who once knew that the living dead didn't exist."

            "What I'm saying is I can't tell you why you became a pirate. That's entirely up to you." He grinned. "But I shall do my best to make anything clear to you that your person can't see."

            Blackbird smiled in return. "How's your relation with trust these days, Jack?"

            He laughed. "You of all people I ever knew should know that when I say something, I intend to carry it out. Are you calling me deceitful?"

            "Not at all. But I know others don't think so highly of you."

            Jack scoffed. "Their side of the story always leaves out a few important parts."

            "I know you're a man of your word --" she started before being interrupted by a loud shot outside. She looked at the door with such a look that if it were living, it would cringe.

            "Mus' be blind drunk by now," Jack murmured.

            "'Slong as they don't blast any holes in the floor," Blackbird said, slightly impatient.

            "They're good men…and women," Jack said, remembering Anamaria. "They wouldn't damage yer ship."

            Blackbird settled down slightly, his words sinking in. "Ready for a long night?" she whispered.

            "What?" Jack choked out, taken by surprise.

            "Not that, you idiot," Blackbird spat out. "I'm being serious!" She took a deep breath. "I've never spoken a word of this to anyone, save for this, and are you going to take me seriously?"

            "Apologies," Jack said, regaining his composure. "I didn't mean…yes, I'm listening."

            The room fell silent. Blackbird had her legs propped once more on the desk, one foot over the other. Her hands were folded in her lap, the chair leaned back slightly with her back against it. The usual expression of concentration, determination, and slight sorrow was plastered to her features. Her fair eyes drifted from her fingers to Jack.

            "Okay…" she said. She licked her lips, her mouth slightly open with meditation. The jewel in her eyebrow glistened with the lamp light in the room. "1714. That was the year that I died."


	3. The Dark One and the Light One

_But of course...this all started many years before my death..._

Any hopes of a breeze were absent on the 16th day of August, the year of 1714. The sun was in the middle of the sky, its rays burning the ground and tanning the skin. The only sound that could be heard if you stood in the middle of the dirt path was a faint clicking and humming. If you walked closer, the clicking would turn louder into the sounds picks and shovels hitting the dirt. The humming turned into a choir of melancholy voices, singing a song of hope and deliverance.

Another sound merged into the already present ones, the sound of a small horse drawn wagon that made its way down the small path up to the house that was in the middle of the plantation. The dark red mansion with white trim loomed above the visitor as his carriage came to a stop by the front door. The song of the workers ignored him, the words floating on the windless air:

_A mighty Fortress is our God_

_A Bulwark never failing_

_Our Helper He amidst the flood_

_Of mortal ills prevailing_

_For still our ancient foe_

_Doth seek to work us woe;_

_His craft and pow'r are great,_

_And armed with cruel hate,_

_On earth is not his equal._

A young man of about 25 stepped out of the hutch, carrying in his hand a small black handbag that immediately began absorbing the suns heat as he walked to the front door. He had just raised his fist to knock when the door swung inwards to reveal a black, older woman, dressed somewhat elegantly for a slave.

"Ye mus' be th' doctor."

"I am."

"Com' on insi'. Theys waitin' for ye upstai-uhs."

The door closed behind the doctor as he stepped inside.

Meanwhile, behind the small mansion sitting on a wooden step were two other figures. One, a tall, dark, and lanky male that was dressed in a pale white worker's shirt, dark trousers, and worn sandals; the other a pale young girl of about the age 15 whose long black curls hung around her shoulders and contrasted her face immensely.

"What's wrong with Mama?" the girl asked timidly.

The dark man placed his hand on the girl's shoulder and squeezed gently. "There's nuthin' wrong with yo mama, _Nova,_" he replied to her softly.

"Then why did Papa have to call the doctor over?"

"Your Papa is concerned for her."

"Shouldn't _I _be concerned, Amadi?"

Amadi looked into her eyes, his own sad ones shiny with unshed tears. "Your papa has enough concern for the both of you. All you need to do is pray."

"I'm sick of praying."

"Then I shall pray for you. How is that?"

The girl smiled. "How did you ever end up here, Amadi? You don't deserve this life."

"Who are you to tell me what I deserve?" Amadi asked lightly. "God has put me here for a purpose and I rejoice for whatever that purpose may be."

She smiled. "I hope someday I will have as much faith as you. It makes your eyes glow and your heart get bigger."

He laughed. "So you can see through me?"

"I can feel it."

Amadi wrapped the child into a big hug, rocking her slightly back and forth. "You are such a special child, _Nova. _But soon, you will no longer be a young girl. You will grow into a beautiful young woman and live up to the name given to you."

"My name is too big. I do not want it."

Amadi let her go so he could look into her golden eyes. "You are right. Your name is too big for you right now. But do not throw it away," he said sternly, clasping her firmly on the shoulders and keeping intense eye contact. "Keep it safe and use it when the time is right for it."

"How will I _know_ when the time is right, Amadi?"

"You will know. It takes many years to learn things like that.How long do you think it took for me to learn that God has given me a purpose?

The child appeared to be thinking. "A long time."

"Yes."

The two sat in silence for a moment, the sounds of the shovels and singing filling their ears. The girl looked up at the second floor of her home, gazing at the window longingly.

"_Nova._"

"Yes, Amadi?"

"Promise your old friend something?"

"Anything, Amadi. I would do anything for you."

"Whenever you are afraid, I want you to think of your name. It is very powerful, so powerful you mustn't even speak it aloud. It will chase away any fear, no matter how great, and it will give you strength. Do you understand?"

"My name isn't that magnificent, Amadi," she replied doubtfully. "I don't see how it could make me not afraid."

He smiled. "You will see, _Nova. _When that day comes when you shall speak it aloud, the earth will tremble in fear and knees will buckle."

"Now you're just telling tall tales."

"I am not," Amadi said seriously. "It will be bravura the day you are known as --"

xxx

"Known as?"

Blackbird laughed. "You didn't really think I was going to tell you, did you?"

Jack frowned.

"Don't get me wrong, Jack, I've grown up. I don't give a shit about what Amadi said. But I still don't feel quite comfortable with the idea of letting myself loose that way."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself, girly."

"I'm no girly," she replied defensively.

Jack grinned. "Touched a soft spot, 'ave I?"

"No," she replied, still in defense mode. "Are you interested or not, because I can just as easily quit now." Blackbird stood up abruptly, ready to swish past Jack to the party outside.

"Nah, nah," Jack said, placing a hand on her leg to stop her. She glared at him. "Please, by now you should know that I'm anything but a gentleman." She seemed to consider this as he flashed a golden toothed smile.

"All right, Jack," she said, shoving him lightly on the shoulder as she sat back down. "Now this next part...this you'll have to pay attention to, because even I still don't understand everything."

-TBC

**("A Mighty Fortress is Our God" © Martin Luther)**


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